The Knight's Jesters
by Xanada
Summary: The story progresses in the Joker's stay in Arkham! Will Dr. Quinzel lose her mind, as well? UPDATED! R&R please!
1. Beginnings

**R&R please! :)**

**disclaimer: Tom & story belongs to me, it's obvious everyone else belongs to DC :P**

**Full Summary: Dr. Harleen Quinzel is the Joker's psychiatrist, trying to get information from him as easily as she can. However, with mind games, stubbornness, and his natural way of crawling underneath peoples' skin, will the Joker change the doctor, instead? Nolan-Verse  
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"Hey, do you want to know how I got these scars?" Joker sneered, lurching towards the thick translucent wall between he and the doctor. Bound by his jacket, he rammed his head to the surface of the obstacle, laughing as the pain erupted through his body. "Harley, Harley, baby!" he hollered as the stunned psychologist stood before him, shaking clipboard in hand. However, despite her small ticks, her overall posture seemed confident and unafraid of the crazed man behind the wall. "I heard about Harvey Dent." he smirked, recoiling back to his uncomfortable cot. "Dead as my daddy, eh?" Grunting without a reply from Dr. Quinzel, Joker directed his attention to the gray brick prison he was bound to.

Like a dog in a kennel, he was quiet when alone but went insane, clawing for attention, whenever a potential adopter passed by. However, when it came to simpletons such as guards and technicians, he couldn't care less. Save for screwing with their minds, the Joker liked to spend his time tormenting doctors, lawyers, the warden, and psychologist Harleen Quinzel – his personal favorite. He _loved_ watching her squirm on the inside, wondering whether or not this mad man would somehow be able to break through the walls binding him to this hell.

The Joker was not a person of idle dwindling. He preferred, of course, destruction. To him, the best type of destruction included not only the corruption of men and flames engulfing cities, but to see one begging for mercy at knife point. Seeing a humans eyes widen in shock as death overcame their crying hearts was the best thing that the clown could see. His moment of silence was broken as he heard the glass slightly slide to the side, allowing Quinzel to enter the cell. He had the urge to charge from his bed and ram her over before the door closed once more. Surprisingly, Joker always managed to swallow the temptation, lick his lips in frustration, and close his eyes to catch his thoughts.

Dr. Quinzel looked to her clipboard, flipping back and forth between two pages coolly, her high heels clicking as she sat on the plastic chair adjacent to his bed. "Another wonderful session, my dear?" Joker smiled, raising his chin defiantly. "Gonna... calm my nerves?"

She glanced at him from her paperwork, and then back to the mug shots. "Today, we're actually going to work an answer from you..." Harleen could tell that the criminal was losing interest in the activity already. He frowned and remained silent as she continued. "Let's start with your father. Do you think he is the reason you are the way you are today?" The doctor could almost feel a hole burn through her coat as J glared at her. His licked his lips, but did not speak. "Okay..." she sighed, scribbling a note before she moved on. "What about your mother? Do you even remember anything?" Nothing.

Then Harleen noticed where his eyes had drifted right behind her. Were the guards truly making him that nervous? Desperate for progress, she turned to Tom, and smiled. "Hey, can you guys step out for a moment?"

All the guards seemed very hesitant, shaking their heads. "The warden said..."

"I know what the warden said, but the warden also wants answers from my patient, his captive." Dr. Quinzel said. "Therefore, he would want me to exhaust any option to get the answers." Reluctantly, that statement managed to cause the guards to exit, almost as if the pride was sucked from their uniformed bodies. "Is that better?" she growled, turning back to him.

He was smiling, and immediately stood up, walking towards her. "I'll call the guards if you try to do anything..." Harleen threatened.

"Babe, how can I do anything like _this?_" he thrust his arms and chest forward, displaying the straight jacket. "The worst I can do is kick or try to bite you. Want me to?" he cackled.

In disgust, she stood up against this tall man, and wrinkled her nose. "Sit down." Swiftly, he slid behind her, resting his head on her shoulder playfully.

"Aw, come on! Be a sport for me, eh?" he tripped her, kicking the back of Dr. Quinzel's knee, and nudging her hard enough so she'd land on his cot. Having the wind knocked from her, she couldn't scream as she fell, feeling the her body slam against the stone-hard mattress. Joker hovered over her, his face just but two inches from her own. As he teasingly neared her lips, a striking pain, the palm of Harleen's hand, hugged Joker's cheek. He stood and laughed. Despite the madman's actions, he was still extremely bored and was dying to get out.

Quinzel was revolted; folders tightly gripped in her hands, rushed to the gate and exited. She had no intention of allowing this _slime_ to tarnish her integrity. He watched her hips as she scampered away like a mouse. He felt offended, but returned to his bed. Joker had been in the cell for a month, and already was beginning to miss the Batman. "I'm going to get out of here." he grumbled. And he will.

For the Joker always keeps his word.

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**That's about it! Ideas, critiques, and anything! R&R thanks! (next chapter is longer)**

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	2. Mind, Lost

**Here we go. :) Updates! Like I said, this chapter will be longer. And it is.**

**If you have any suggestions or constructive criticism to offer, please let me know. I'll appreciate every one. **

**obvious disclaimer: story (C) to me, characters (C) to DC, Tom belongs to me because, well, I made him.**

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Stripped of his war paint and normal attire, Joker felt nude as he stared into the grubby small mirror in his cell. He couldn't recognize himself without the white and red smears across his face. Who _was_ this stranger? "You." came a familiar voice from across the room. He snapped his head towards her without word. "We're going to talk today, all right? Like yesterday, there are no guards. Is that good for you?"

To this, Joker smiled and kicked back, his scrubs hanging loosely from his body. "Couldn't get enough of yesterday, hmmm?" She reached over and untied him from the jacket, throwing it across the room.

Displaying a tazer to him, she made it clear that any physical assault on her would result in pain. Dr. Quinzel furrowed her brows and situated herself once more on the plastic chair before him. "Will this make you talk?"

He cocked his head and cackled, stretching his arms in relish. "Ah, feels good to really move again." But the doctor wasn't so pleased by his answer.

"Listen," she sighed, rubbing her temples. "I don't want to do this, and neither do you. But unless you give me some answers, we can keep on tossing the ball back and forth until the planet splits in two."

"What a wonderful idea!" the murder seemed very pleased. "Imagine what would happen then."

Harleen shook her head, and laid the check board across her lap. The silence loomed until Joker stood up and knelt down before her. She couldn't help but stare at the scars and ponder of their origin. "I know people like you." came the grin. "You act like you're normal. You want to be normal." He stood up, and spun with his arms outstretched. "But in the end, you're just like _me._" Quinzel's eyes widened in disbelief.

How _dare_ this man judge her that way? She was a doctor; a professional, civil woman with no intent or desire to maim, destroy, or kill. Joker licked his lips and smirked. "I know so. Years spent in this hell hole, well, it's bound to kick you into _my_ reality eventually." A warm, wet touch caused her to shudder. He _licked _her. He actually _licked_ her.

She wanted to escape and get out of there. Never before has she met a patient this feral. No rules, no morals, no type of restrain whatsoever. Quenzel closed her eyes and took a very deep breath as he retracted his touch and slunk back to his bed. "But, hey, it's your call, babe. I'm just the bad guy, right?"

_Prick! How dare he! _Cursed she. Joker felt as though he had won, and threw his hands behind his skull, resting. Glaring at him, she forced the jacket back around his body. He hadn't fought back yet. Then without hesitation, she stood up and left the room, hissing an "End session." as she exited.

However, as she walked out, she heard a blood-curdling cry behind her. He was angry. Very, very angry. This type of outburst wasn't usual since he's gotten in. "Come back here." came the holler. "I'm talking to you, Quinzel! I'm _talking _to you!" The doctor heard several bangs and as she spun, she saw blood all over the door. Joker's blood. He was charging himself senseless into the gate, chewing at his binds savagely. It almost seemed as though his scars were going to rip once more due to his widened mouth. The situation scared her. Guards began to pour in from outside, pulling out their batons to enforce order. His temple was bruised and bleeding, while he began to kick at the gate. Joker's mixture of laughing and pained roars blossomed a chill down her spine.

"Put him down, now! Where are the tranqs? Do we have any tranqs?" Tom called.

"Wait!" Dr. Quinzel ran forth, pushing through the guards. She pressed her hand against the glass and looked into the Joker's bloodshot eye. "Calm down."

He was haggard, panting heavily, and ignoring the pain completely, if not enjoying it. Recollecting himself, he erected his posture and took two steps back. Looking to him, she whispered into Tom's ear: "Well, he _has_ been diagnosed with minor schizophrenia, being bipolar, and ... just being insane... It's a complicated hard-to-read."

"Let. Me. _Out._" Joker snarled, putting emphasis on the 't.'

"I'm afraid we can't do that right now." Dr. Quinzel stated solemnly. "Can I come in?" The mad man did not reply, but sat down on the cot, looking to the floor. She almost pitied him that moment, but images of the people he killed diluted such emotions. Removing a small first aid pack from the wall, she made her way towards the glass.

Slowly, she slipped her key card into the slot by the gate, to which it began to slide open. Tom scuffled behind her, but Harleen held up a hand. "No, Tom. We can't stress him out any more than he already is, okay? Just... just stand by the door."

Joker watched her from the corner of his eye as the doctor hastily made her entrance. "Can I clean you up?"

There came a cackle from he. Taking a deep breath, Harleen made her way towards him and began to tend his wounds. Tom, outside the cell, was very watchful and nervous. As she began to medicate and bandage the gashes, Joker watched the guard outside angrily. This sudden crack of emotions should have been expected; Arkham was changing him, and he did not like it. The Joker needed t move, run, shoot, laugh, and just be _free_.

To be confined in this monstrous belly was only making his mentality worse, and much more vengeful. With no friends, no relatives, and no thugs to push around, the clown was unsure of how we would make his scape. It was just then, as Harleen began to stitch his face, that the Joker began to realize how truly alone he really was. He was but a child, and the world was his playground.

But there was no one with to play. The Batman offered fruitful game and hearing the screams of Gotham only fed his hunger – of which he was sure to never end. Joker was distraught. Such thoughts were so very unlike him. He did not like it. Not. One. Bit.

Harleen cringed as he hissed in pleasure while the stinging sensation rolled over her face. "We're done," she said. Dr. Quinzel put away all the spplies and removed the partially-bloody gloves from her hands. "We're going to have to move you, but until we do, you must be controlled." As if on cue, Tom stepped in, cuffing Joker to his bed.

That night he lay in his bed in silence. He was tired, and gave up trying to see through the darkness. Eventually he fell to sleep, the hand cuff bruising his skin throughout the night. But knowing the Joker, he did not care.

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**Yep. :) That's about it for now. R&R please!**

**Xan**


	3. Questionable Beliefs

**Hello, everyone. :) I'm terribly sorry for the late update. Writer's block and laziness were the cause.**

**Your support thus far is greatly appreciated! Thank you, all. **

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He awoke the next day, groggy and irritated. The last thing he remembered was Tom, that guard, pulling one of Joker's hands and constraining him to his bed. Now he was in a padded cell with both his arms, once more, wrapped around his body. Adapting quickly, the Joker overcame the new change in surroundings. The lights looming high above him offered little comfort, and the new mirror was now tinier, appearing as though it were but a silver plate. There was no bed, and he felt as though he were going blind from the lack of color. Even a touch of gray could have made this room easier on the eyes.

"Yesterday's incident was rather... odd. Would you care to elaborate on that?" Harleen said, crossing her legs nonchalantly, as if nothing happened. Her sudden appearance nearly surprised him.

"No," snarled Joker, baring his teeth. Getting up from the floor, he stalked towards her, licking his lips. His putrid breath caused she to wrinkle her nose, and look away. He laughed, and then straightened his face. "Because I have no answers for you."

He produced a smacking sound and looked through the small barred window on the door, unamused. "When can I get out?"

Dr. Quinzel narrowed her eyes and pursed her lips, but as she was about to utter something she found herself pushed off of her chair by a frightening force. There was a bulge on the side of the Joker's cheek, where the habit of pressing his tongue against the inner scars took place.

He glared at her. The Joker was about to lurch forward until the sudden interruption echoed through the room. There was a ring, and she got up and reached into her pocket, pulling out a phone. Within the next moment, she was out of the cell and gone, save for the muffled voice behind the door.

Joker was discouraged. He needed to crawl under her skin soon! Although he wasn't much of a people person, he needed to have someone to boss around, to say the least. The next hour drew out in a very mundane fashion. Staring at the walls, he found himself little to do. Two security members joined him in the cell, one with a baton, and the other carrying a tray of food.

"What's that you're giving my food in. A diaper?" the psychotic killer scoffed, glaring at the gloppy meal.

"It's a silicon bowl." smiled Tom, with a proud look on his face. "So you don't _hurt_ yourself."

He wasn't amused. "It's a diaper."

"It's food."

"Where's my drink? Am I going to suck water out of a napkin?" came the growl.

"Gonna just have to wait for that." and the guards walked out with the tray, leaving the Joker with a sloppy meal and dulled-out children dining utensils. His stomach was growling madly, but he ignored his hunger.

"You're thin." Quinzel mused, returning from her elongated phone call. "You have to eat."

"And you care, why?" Joker snorted.

"I care because I like to see my patients are still alive."

There came no comment, no witty retort, and no sound from the infamous killer. He looked at her, almost smiling, and asked, "What are you guys gonna do to me?"

"Whatever the court tells us to."

"I should be dead by now."

"They're still tallying up the shit you've done to this city."

"I'm gonna get out."

"I know you are. I believe in that."

"Glad to know I have a fan."

"Don't count on it."

Her heart skipped three beats as she saw him give her a yellow grin. He was a Cheshire cat, hovering above her in air, watching her squirm. It was obvious he delighted in it, tossing her about like a mouse before he would dive in for the kill. "Ever had a boyfriend, Quinzy?"

"Not in a while, why?"

"Shame. Such pretty dame like you."

"Shut up."

To this, Joker cackled, and cracked his neck. "No, it's okay. I'd rather not."

"""

Exasperated, Quinzel opened the door to her apartment, throwing her coat aside on the rack, where she proceeded to watch TV for the rest of the night, until she fell asleep with the remote in hand. Her pajamas hung loosely from her body while the soap re-runs looped on the set. The doctor's reading glasses were tucked away in her drawer, beside her gun. A girl had to stay safe, of course; she was just glad she never had to use it – yet.

Deep inside, she knew that the Joker was eventually going to break out – even if that meant using her. However, she felt a strong conflict brewing inside of her: she wasn't sure if she felt like stopping him. She felt as though deep inside she _wanted _him to use her; she _wanted_ him to be free once more.

It was that night Harleen knew that she made up her mind.

When the timing was right, she'll take the key to the lock, and send this clown back to his circus, where he belonged.

"""

Joker looked up to the dark ceiling above him. He had a feeling he'd make it out soon. He just knew it. "Dear Lord," he loudly prayed. "Please help me, for I am a sick, sick man, and I've hurt many, many people. Please forgive me in all my sins, and help these nice folk lead me into the ways of righteousness. I've been a cruel, cruel man... And--"

"_Shut up!_" boomed a young guard, who was patrolling down the hall. "I can hear that bullshit through those bars, now shut up! There ain't no salvation for you, you crazy bastard."

He smiled, and sunk down to the floor. "Not just yet, kid. Noooot yet."

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**Oh, my, what will happen next? ;) Please leave any thoughts, suggestions, or constructive criticisms. I thank you in advance! **


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